Reckoning
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Tony makes an annual pilgrimage.


Reckoning

Rating: PG-13 for language

Setting: 2008 Movieverse

Pairing: Tony/Pepper

Synopsis: Tony makes an annual pilgrimage.

Disclaimer: SO not mine.

Pepper Potts checks her Blackberry as she walks down the steps to the workshop; a small frown on her face. A few taps on the security panel and she strides onto the floor with a rat-at-at-tat of stiletto power.

"Tony, Happy's outside and waiting." She addresses the lower half of her boss; the top half currently buried inside the metal torso of his alter ego. "He's early, but I thought you'd like to take a shower before you go."

"Hmph." Tony Stark extracts himself from the suit. "Is everything there?"

"As it is every year." She pauses, staring down at him as he wipes his hands on an already-filthy rag. "Unless there's something different…"

"No, no." Getting to his feet he winces; leaning slightly to one side. "Tell him I'll be out in a half hour." He looks at her. "I'll see you there." The tone of his voice makes it a statement, not a question.

"Tony?" Her voice rises an octave along with her eyebrows. "You want me to come along?" Her eyes dart down to the small screen on her Blackberry. "I mean…"

"I want you there, Pepper." The dark-haired man tosses the rag across the room towards the robots that race to retrieve it. "This year, more than ever."

The redhead bites down on her bottom lip, staring at the floor before she responds. "If you'd like…"

"I'd like." The whisper drifts back to her ears as he disappears up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

She cancels not one but two appointments specifically scheduled for her that afternoon; something with Human Resources about yet another payout of her vacation time and Public Relations about what hopefully would be the last of Tony's faux love children popping up in a tabloid. As she arrives at the car Happy holds open the door, a slight frown on his face.

"I know." Pepper nods, looking back at the house. "I don't know why either." Smoothing down her black skirt she slides in across the leather seats, finally turning the Blackberry off and tucking it into one of the car side pockets.

Tony Stark appears a few minutes later, dressed in a sharp smoky-grey pinstripe suit with a white dress shirt and light grey tie. His sunglasses hide his eyes from the bright California sun as he strides towards the car.

"Let's go." He waves at Happy as he sits next to Pepper, a fraction closer to her than he usually does. The change is not lost on her and she casually scoots a bit closer; brushing his leg with her own.

He doesn't turn to acknowledge her but stares out the window the entire half-hour drive. But his hand moves to touch her knee, finally settling there when she doesn't say anything. Not today.

The cemetery is quiet and the gates locked; as they are every year on this day. The private security guards nod to Happy and open the steel barriers without saying a word and shut them just as securely behind the car. A few photographers linger on the outside of the fence, hoping to catch a shot of Tony Stark visiting his parents' grave. And this year, like all others, they won't get a chance. No one dares to call out to the black car as it moves through.

Ten minutes later at the far end of the cemetery the car rolls to a gentle stop. Tony opens the door before Happy can get there; stepping out into the bright sunlight and squinting despite the sunglasses. Happy moves to the back of the car, opening the trunk.

Pepper gets out as well, leaning against the vehicle as Happy hands Tony the bouquet of roses and the bottle of brandy. It takes a bit of balancing but Stark manages the three glasses, as he does every year.

He turns back towards the car for a second, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something. Then he presses his lips together and strides purposely across the well-maintained and gloriously green grass towards the headstone.

The original granite rectangle has withstood the elements well; only a small amount of erosion on the two smaller names under the large, dominating last name. Behind it stands a statue of a man pointing into the sky, his other hand on the shoulder of a small boy who also gazes skyward in awe.

Tony places the roses squarely in the center of the grass in front of the headstone, pulling his glasses off as he sits down cross-legged. The bottle is uncorked and the three glasses filled to an appropriate level, two placed in front of each name and the third remaining in his steady hands.

"Hey, Dad. Mom." He draws a deep breath. "It's been a bit of a rough year. But I guess you know that already." Stark looked up at the statue towering over him. "You probably got the story from Obi on his way to Hell, hopefully." A deep swallow of the brandy; a refill of the glass.

The dark-haired man shook his head. "I never would have thought it of him, Dad. The bastard just…" He holds up his right hand, curling the fingers into a fist and then opening it. "He could have kept doing what he was doing forever; I wouldn't have noticed. I would have kept whoring and drinking and making new weapons for him." The thick amber liquid sloshes around the glass as he holds it up. "It wasn't like I was going to change." He mutters into the brandy as he takes a sip.

He sits there, sprawled across the grass for a few minutes, staring up at the statue. "Obi put that up, you know. Said that he wanted to make sure everyone remembered both of us. Although now that I look at it the bastard looks more like him than you." The glass empties again. "I can't believe he paid to have me killed. He could have just left me alone and I would have probably done it myself in a few more years."

The shadows creep across the grass, enveloping him as he fills the glass. "You'd have loved Afghanistan, Dad. Hot and dusty, remind you a lot of Los Alamos." One hand pushes the roses apart, spreading them over the dirt. "Wouldn't have been anything to bury here beside you." He glances at the empty plot beside the tombstone. "Bet he had a marble stone waiting on standby for when they declared me dead." The silky liquid moves across his lips and tongue. "No one thought I'd come back."

He glances back towards the car where a redheaded woman leans against the black car, nodding as she talks to Happy in a low voice, too low for him to hear. "She did, though. She held it all together while I was gone. The barbarians were at the gates, Dad… stockholders screaming for the paperwork to be filed; love children popping out of the woodwork to take over the company; lost relatives suddenly appearing…" Tony chuckles into the brandy. "You'd have loved the last one, Mom. Claims that you and he were secret lovers during the war. Pepper slapped him down so quick you'd be proud of her." He clears his throat. "Lord, Mom… she's way too good a woman for me. She puts up with all of my crap and I never knew how close I came to losing her until I came back. And even then I'm stumbling along."

His long fingers wrap around the thin glass; swirling the amber liquid around. "You told me that I could trust him, Dad. You told me that Obi was a pal, a friend, someone I could always count on." He draws in a deep breath, choking slightly. "I didn't want to believe it. I was hoping it was some bastard that had slipped in under the radar; somebody taking advantage of Obi's good nature and my irresponsibility. Some jackass looking to sell weapons under the table to the very people I thought I was protecting our men and women from."

One hand picks up the near-empty bottle, topping off the drink. "Hell, even when the bastard ripped it out of my chest I didn't want to believe." His other hand goes to his dress shirt, pulling the tie loose and unbuttoning the shirt. The cool icy glow of the arc reactor falls across the names carved in the marble.

"You'd like this, Dad." He mumbles into the glass. "Bet you'd have figured it out before I did. Probably make it smaller, faster, better…" His eyes close for a minute and he sways back and forth in silence.

Suddenly Tony Stark stumbles to his feet, grabbing the bottle by the neck and smashing it against the tombstone; sending brandy and shards of glass everywhere. "You should have been here! You shouldn't have left me!" Expensive Italian shoes stomp on the two brandy snifters sitting on the glass, grinding them into the soil. "You shouldn't have died!"

The glass in his hand flies at the statue; splattering across the man's face. Brandy drips down onto the boy's head and off of the stone fingers.

He falls to his knees in the wet soil, hands over his face as he weeps.

Suddenly there are arms around him, cradling him, pulling him close. He sniffles as he recognizes her perfume, the gloriously intoxicating scent of Pepper Potts.

"Happy, help me get him to the car." The words are soft and melodic as he feels himself being pulled to his feet.

Opening his eyes he stumbles along the road, Pepper on one hand and the strong boxer hold of his driver wrapped around his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to no one.

He allows himself to be bundled into the car and he closes his eyes, falling to one side into the lap of the woman beside him. She doesn't speak and instead begins to run her fingers through his hair as they move forward.

By the time they get back to the house Tony's more aware and more conscious to the point of embarrassment. As he steps out of the car he smiles at Happy. "Earned your money today."

"Yes, sir." He grins back. "Will that be all for today?"

The question is addressed more towards Pepper who has just exited the car beside him, Blackberry in hand. "That'll be all, Happy. Thank you." He wipes his eyes and walks towards the house, his shirt still unbuttoned.

"Thank you." Pepper whispers under her breath as she begins to follow him. Happy reaches out and squeezes her arm lightly.

"Take care of the big guy." He gives a wistful smile to the redhead. "Ain't never seen him so upset on this trip."

"Me neither" She smiles back, patting his hand. "I'll call you if we need you."

He nods and gets back into the car, waiting until she enters the house and closes the door before driving off.

Tony's sitting on the sofa, his jacket tossed onto the table. His shirt is still open and the arc reactor pulses at her as she walks over to him.

"Can I get you anything?" She says quietly, hands crossed in front of her.

"No. Maybe a time machine." He pauses, a frown appearing on his face. "God, Pep… you're bleeding."

She glances down to see a thin line of blood on her right knee, dribbling down her leg. Before she can react Tony is up and grabbing her arm; steering her down the stairs to the workshop and over to the nearest empty worktable.

"Does it hurt?" He puts his hands on her waist, effortlessly lifting her up and seating her on the table as he grabs a nearby stool, sitting down in front of her. Dummy trundles over, his claws opening and closing in curiosity.

"Get the first aid kit." Stark orders the robot who races off.

"It's fine, Tony. Just a scratch." The redhead protests, her feet swinging free and her knees pressed tightly together.

"No, it's not okay." A long slender finger travels along her kneecap, tracing the wound. "You've got a bit of dirt in here as well. Must have cut it on the glass." One eyebrow rises. "No nylons, Pep?"

"I thought it'd be a short day." She fires back, a wry smile on her face. Dummy beeps his opinion as he hands over the small plastic box to Tony.

"Probably for the best – I don't want to think about having to pluck threads out of this." He crouches down with a pre-soaked pad and begins to dab at the inch-long cut. "Doesn't look too bad."

"It's nothing." Pepper protests again, to no avail. He draws the cotton down to wipe away the long thin trail of blood and back up again to gently poke at the offending slit.

"Could get infected, Pep. Could be a problem." Tony whispers to her knee, the heated air sending a shiver along the exposed skin. "Don't want a scar on you."

"Just slap a bandage on it already." She grumps, shifting back and forth on the cool metal surface. His hands suddenly clamp down on her waist, holding her still.

"Let me at least do something right, okay?" He looks at her with deep, sad eyes that still her movement.

Tenderly he dabs antibiotic ointment on the cut from a small tube, tossing it back into the kit and taking the bandage that Dummy has already so thoughtfully pulled out of the immense variety that Pepper had ordered, fully aware of the dangers of Stark's workshop. Ripping away the paper edges he carefully places the square pad over the injury, running his fingers along the edges to secure the light glue.

"There. All done." He moves back to survey his work with a smile that matches any great invention he's paraded in front of her in that same workshop. One hand moves to smooth the black skirt down over the exposed skin even though it hadn't been moved in the first place.

"Tony." Pepper exhales in a low breath. Her hands reach out; taking his in a firm grip. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

A smirk touches his lips. "Eavesdropping, were we?"

"Not really. But you're not that hard to read at times." She doesn't miss a beat. Her touch intensifies; a sudden strength in her fingers. "I thought you'd be asking that."

"Didn't get an answer." He mumbles, his eyes still downcast. "Didn't expect one but it would have been nice. I just wish I knew why Obi felt that he had to kill me. I mean, I wasn't a threat to him…" A ragged sob breaks free. "God, Pep… it's been decades and I still miss them."

She nods. "I know." The fingers intertwine; pulling him closer to her. "You want to know why he wanted you dead?"

His head finally lifts, locking eyes with her. "Yes."

The redheaded woman tilts her head to one side. "It's because he knew that you'd find out eventually. Somewhere, somehow, someone would have let something slip and I'd find out and you'd find out and you would have made him stop. Or try to."

One eyebrow arches upwards. "You think I would have? Between the women, the gambling and the booze?"

"Yes." She doesn't move. "Because he knew what I know – that underneath it all you're a good man, Tony Stark. And you would have never put up with that sort of crap being done under your father's name."

He opens his mouth suddenly as if to say something but instead a soft cry comes out and he falls into her lap with a sob; crying again. One hand covers the fresh bandage, pressing down into the warm flesh as the other tightens onto her waist.

Pepper places her left hand on the back of his neck, stroking the fine hairs there lightly as he gathers himself. Finally he rises up from the stool, releasing her and staring into her face.

"You, Pepper Potts, are much more than I deserve."

A smile twitches the edges of her mouth upwards. "Yes, yes I am. At least for today." Leaning forward she places a light kiss on his cheek before sliding off of the workbench and standing beside him. "You've got to be hungry – I'll go order dinner. Armando's pizza sounds about right."

Before he can react she's out of sight; her attack stilettos echoing up the stairs. Leaning on the workbench with both hands pressed flat on the cool metal Tony gives a short laugh.

"Are you okay, sir?" Jarvis breaks in, a note of concern in his voice.

"I'm… fine." He straightens up, loosening the tie from around his neck and buttoning up his shirt. "Today, I'm fine." His eyes sparkle as he glances towards the stairs. "And tomorrow I'm going to be even better."


End file.
